Here is one of the more stunningly good pieces of poetry I've come across in my minor league literature career. I saw this collection approx one year ago, and I've wanted it ever since... I have it now - installed in my personal canon right next to Grass Roots and Given. When I read this poem, I just say yes, yes - everything is right... the words are perfect.
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Carp

On the river bottom,
the carp have blown out
all the candles.

They whisper along
over the closed, black
bibles of clams.

Water-monks these,
with mouths like those
of angels singing,

but not angelic,
so very naked now
in darkness,

their cool, hard bodies
touching, among
the tapestries of weed.

-Ted Kooser

Poet Laureate of the United States

Flying at Night